


We Had Our Words, A Common Spat

by gala_apples, nubianamy



Series: Eyes-verse [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Family, Football, Future Fic, Humor, Mild Kink, Mud, Multi, Sequel, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 03:22:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt deals with the dirt after his husbands and their daughters get muddy playing football. An Eyes-verse futurefic oneshot for Fuckurt Week day one, Family.  Spoilers for We Might As Well Close Our Eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Had Our Words, A Common Spat

**Author's Note:**

> A thousand thanks to Gala for cowriting with me in celebration of Fuckurt Week Day One: Family! We love revisiting this 'verse. Warnings for filth and general hanky-panky. Enjoy. 
> 
> The title is from "My Name is Mud" by Primus.
> 
> -amy and gala

 

It always seemed to happen that football days were also days when the rain came down in torrents, but stopped soon enough that they couldn't justify cancelling practice. This meant, practically, that both Finn and Puck and both girls would come home completely covered with mud. At least Kurt had an excuse not to be at the game on days like this, when the bleachers would be rain-beaded and dripping, because Emma never had cared for sports. He was permitted to stay inside and watch Emma create this week's masterpiece out of Sharpie markers and colored pencils.

Emma was already reading texts from her sisters by the time Kurt climbed into the car. "Buckle your seatbelt before answering those," he reminded her. "You're worse than Grandpa Burt."

"Kelly says they won," she reported.

"Winning is not the point. It's a community-building event."

Emma looked at her dad as though he'd just suggested they pair black with brown. "Winning is  _totally_  the point."

"And just where did you pick up that word, young lady?  _Totally?_ You're going to sound like you're twenty years out of date." He pulled into traffic, sluicing through rain puddles. At least current technology made it impossible for the water to interfere with the running of the SUV's engine.

Kurt left Emma in the car, happily communicating with her sisters - it didn't seem to matter in the least that she was going to see them in just a few minutes - while he ran around the back of the building to meet the four of them outside the door of the gym.

"There they are," Emma called, as soon as they were in view. LIke most preteens, she hadn't appeared to be paying any attention to what was going on outside her own little world, but apparently that simply wasn't true. "And they're filthy."

Kurt sighed, looking at the athletes of his family. All four of them were literally encrusted with mud and bits of grass. The rain was just light enough to not rinse them off. "I will never understand why you refuse to use the community centre's showers."

"Dude, we tried that once," Finn replied, opening the back of the SUV to get the tarps out to protect the upholstery. "I got athlete's foot on three different toes."

Kelly shrugged. "If Papa and Daddy don't have to shower, we don't have to."

"You are such a hippie," Emma shouted from the back seat, voice travelling easily through the open trunk door. "I'm the artist; why are you the one that wants to live off the land and cook fish you'll fry with your own hair grease?"

Before Kurt could admonish Emma for what, frankly, came close to his opinions about his youngest daughter's hygiene practices, Puck stepped in. "Emmz, we're dropping the three of you off at one of your godmothers. Your vote?"

"Brittany!" Emma called out.

"Yay! That's what I said!" Kelly clapped.

"I wanted Santana, but whatevs. Majority wins, even if the majority are gackers."

"I'm not a gacker. You're a gacker, gackqueen!"

"You only like Santana best because she bribes you to like her. Brittany's the actual best."

Kurt went through his litany about seat belts for the forty-seven-millionth time, and even so he had to threaten Emma with bodily harm and taking away her dessert before she would put her device away, but all of it was lost on them when Puck mentioned ice cream. He turned pained eyes on him.

"Did you really have to?" he asked. "In the rain?"

"There are, like, six drops on the windshield." Puck leaned in to kiss him. "Football's not football without ice cream after. Right, girls?"

"Daddy's the best," they chorused, breaking into a fit of giggles. Puck smiled smugly at Kurt, who just rolled his eyes.

Kelly and Emma barely waited for the car to stop moving before they hopped out and ran up what was technically a sidewalk. Kurt didn't like the uneven look of twenty mismatched clearance stepping stones snaking up the grass, but Brittany had never once listened to a decorating opinion of his.

"Waiting for a golden ticket, Lilyana?"

Normally a comment like that to Lilyana would get her started on the differences between the book and the three movies and the stop motion animation tv series, and which was her current favourite. It was a sign of an epic sulk that she didn't even blink at the fannish mention. "Brittany's gonna want to play something."

"So play something?"

"I'm eleven!"

"Emma's thirteen, and I bet she plays whatever Kelly and Brittany want to play."

"Emma's weird. I'm not!"

Puck crossed his arms. "Your dads are about to have adult time. Which means you're not coming in the house. If you'd rather sit on the front lawn in the rain, or in the garage, that's your choice. But personally, I'd stay with Brittany, and enjoy whatever crazy cooking experiment her husband's got going."

"Anyone who eats Chester's food is stupid, and she's stupid AND you're stupid!" Lilyana shouted. But she got out of the car, and stormed up the sidewalk, so Kurt had to consider it a backhanded win.

Finn watched her with mild concern. "Are we gonna have to ground her?"

Puck shook his head, sending a drop of water flying off to hit Kurt's neck. "I said adult time, not parent time."

"Hey, it's your call," Finn replied easily, but Kurt saw his hands clench on the armrests before relaxing again. Even after all these years, that reaction was still enough to get his own pulse racing.

Kurt could also tell, from the look in Puck's eyes, that they were never going to make it to the door without there being some making out. The best he could do was to minimize the impact it was going to have on their laundry - not to mention  _him._  He pulled into the garage and hopped out almost before the engine had cut, unlocking the door and making a beeline for the bedroom. The girls had made all the beds that morning, but Kurt was  _not_  going to let any of them near their toile comforter before they were clean. He flung back the bedclothes, checking to make sure the cuffs were ready and the tiedowns were in place before clearing a path from the bed to the bathroom.

"Called it," he murmured to himself, peering out the doorway into the garage, where Puck had Finn up against the door of the utility cabinet. He raised his voice to be heard over the sounds of their grunts and kissing. "Whoever gets out of the shower first gets dibs on the first orgasm."

"Like that's your call," Puck responded, but Kurt could tell he was smiling. Kurt thought he was home free until he returned from throwing in the first load of laundry, to discover they'd completely ignored his setup and were groping each other in the bathroom.

"I can't deal with this," Kurt warned them. He knew it lacked force. Puck's hands were already all over Finn's ass, and Puck knew that always thoroughly distracted him. He tried again. "Just, if you have anything filthy, please let it land in the bathroom hamper, not the bedroom one?"

"I have something filthy," Puck leered. And yes, that was definitely his husband's hand on his other husband's cock.

"I didn't mean..." Kurt trailed off weakly. There was no way a semantics argument was going to happen, not now. Now Puck's grimy, mud-encrusted fingers were unzipping Finn's jersey pants, working them down his legs. Kurt knew from experience how much harder this was to do when they were soaking wet. He didn't even complain when Finn let Puck's left sock fall onto the bathroom floor, because the underwear had gone with it, and Puck's hand immediately homing-beaconed his way between Finn's thighs.

"Okay, that's really great. Really hot. You could totally continue to do that. In the shower. The shower's like four feet to the left." Kurt pointed uselessly. "It's right there. For the love of god, just take like six sideways shuffles."

"Busy," he heard Puck mumble from under Finn. Now there were actual muddy handprints on Finn's quads. Kurt watched a trail of grey-brown water ooze its way down the side of his bathroom cabinets.

"This is the most obnoxious orgasm delay I've ever seen. And we've been together for eighteen years." Kurt couldn't quite bring himself to tack on  _I hate you both._  Those were the sort of words that came with punishment, and he wasn't feeling bratty, he was just being truthful.

Finn separated from Puck just enough to speak. "You're delaying yourself. Not us. We didn't say you couldn't touch."

"Finn will blow you if you put your hands in his hair," Puck added.

Kurt wanted that. He did. But Finn's hair was matted to his scalp with mud. "Wouldn't you let me wash your hair for you?" he offered, flexing his fingers. "Scalp massage, and... oh, really, Finn, that's  _not_  meant to be used as lubrication.*

There was nothing at all hot about watching a man do that to his skin. That was what he told himself, anyway. Kurt decided he was going to have to take radical measures. Pulling out all the stops, he began a strip-tease, starting with the buttons on his shirt. It took a while to undress himself, and he hadn't had to do that in a long time, not since the girls had been babies. He seemed to get their attention, though, which was the intention. He waggled his ass at them, stepping through the glass door of the bath.

"I'll just be over here, fingering myself in the shower. Which, by the way, is shiny clean and smells like lemon, not sweat and mud and - oh, for the love of  _god."_

They'd found the pile of clean towels, which were absolutely not intended for use in dealing with pre-shower grime, and Puck had backed Finn up right against them. Kurt sighed in frustration. What good was a sexy strip-tease when your husbands had already closed their eyes? He was done with patience, consequences be damned. Turning on the shower with one hand, he grabbed the sprayer off its holder and pointed it directly at the two of them, squeezing the trigger.

The shrieks and protestations might have felt rewarding another time, but for now they just seemed like another distractionary measure. "In," Kurt snapped, herding them with the spray and his own naked body. "And  _stay_  in. If I see so much as one  _splash_  of water that's any color other than clear on this bath mat, you can take your shower in the girls' bathroom for the next week."

He gave up on the idea of orgasms for himself and was halfway dressed again when they climbed out of the shower. Wet was far preferable to muddy, and Finn looked dazed and sated, but Puck was just as focused and hard as when he'd stripped out of his jersey. Kurt sacrificed another outfit to the fate of the hamper, with much better grace this time, and called it even.

"Don't think this is letting you off the hook," he told Puck, between breaths. Puck knelt over him, kissing him with absurd gentleness, considering he'd just put some serious marks in Kurt's flesh.

"I promise I'll get it cleaned up," said Puck. This concession served to render Kurt speechless, but that was nothing new between them either, and really counted in the win category as far as he was concerned.

Back when Kurt had been a teenager, he'd only had three keys. One to his house, one to his car, and one to the April Rhodes Civic Pavillion. It had barely been enough to bother owning a keychain. Now, between the house, and their parents' houses, and the Godparents, and the girls' bikes, and various other lockable things, he had at least fifteen. He'd been the butt of more than one joke about an olden day jailer, but he'd also always been the one people called when one of his family couldn't get in somewhere, so necessity proven.

Puck and Finn didn't even bother to pat their pockets, they just let Kurt take the lead at the Pierce-Stoneton door. Brittany and Chester's key was topped with a pink plastic cap, because nice as they were, Kurt couldn't help but think of them as Ken and Barbie stupid. Generally nice, good people, but Barbie Pink dumb. Being the only pink key, it was easy to keep track of.

"You sure Chester won't mind us coming in without knocking?" asked Finn. He was almost tall enough to look over the fence to the backyard.

Kurt shook his head, smiling. "Britt's always said we're as much part of the family as anyone. I'd take her seriously when she says things like that."

Sure enough, all three girls, plus Chester and Brittany, were wearing big butterfly wings made from stretched pantyhose. It was a dress-up Kurt had seen before. The different sets of plastic teeth were a new addition, though. Puck just paused in the doorway, cackling hysterically, but Finn pushed past him into the front room, catching Emma in a running hug as she tore by him.

"Dibs on the spare antennae," he declared.

Puck smirked as he slid his arms around Kurt's waist. "Playing's not so bad, huh, Lil?"

"I'm a mutant butterfly with sabertooth teeth," she clarified. "I innocently land on people and then, just as they're saying how pretty this monarch orange is, I savage their faces off!"

Chester nodded solemnly. "Way too hardcore to be playing!"

"That's my girl," said Puck, sounding completely satisfied, and gave Kurt a squeeze.


End file.
